


Maybe You Won't Die Alone

by catfishCaper



Series: As Good As It Gets [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Post-Dragon Age II, a family can be two (insert ridiculous number of random people here) meme, cross stitch, title from galavant again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-15 22:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10558746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catfishCaper/pseuds/catfishCaper
Summary: It's Isabela's birthday, and somehow Varric's gotten a gift to her. It's cute, thoughtful, and homemade by one of Isabela's favorite people. She absolutely loathes it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> once again dedicated to tara even though i wrote this because i was bored
> 
> title from "Serenade" from the show Galavant:  
> And now her defenses are starting to fall  
> Smile and return her affection  
> If you don't manage to ruin it all  
> Maybe you won't die alone

Isabela was angry with Varric. He had tracked them down and somehow predicted where they would be next and arranged for someone at the docks of their destination to give them a gift. She wasn’t upset he had managed to plot their course for them--that led her to believe it was predictable enough that unsavory characters (a different flavor of unsavory from herself and Hawke, that was) could also find it.

She was upset because of the gift itself.

It was a beautiful piece of cross stitching, probably supposed to hang on the wall of the captain’s cabin she and Hawke shared. Someone had clearly put a lot of time and effort into it. Who, she had no idea (Bethany? Anders? Aveline? Certainly not Varric, right?), and while she appreciated the effort, the message made her quite upset.

 _A Family Can Just Be Two Moms And A Dog And No Kids_ the cross stitch said, in beautiful colors, over the image of a pirate ship sailing the seas. Stitched very tiny on the ship were stick figures who were supposed to be Isabela and Hawke, and a little cross stitch mabari.

It was beautifully done, well thought out, and someone probably would have thought it a wonderful birthday present. Hawke had to physically hold Isabela back from throwing it in the sea when she first looked at it.

“It’s an objectively true statement,” Hawke said amusedly. She ran her fingers over the stitches. “You said Varric sent this, but did he say who made it?”

Isabela opened the envelope that had come with the package. There was a card with a boy pirate from a children’s cartoon on it. It was a card for a child’s 3rd birthday, but someone had crudely drawn a 5 on it, so it said “35 today! Yo ho! Way to go!” Somehow Varric had managed to get it to all of their friends to sign it. Merrill’s message, which was a little long and rambly, indicated she was the one who made the cross stitch.

Also in the card was a crisp twenty sovereign bill. Thanks, Varric.

“Merrill did it.”

“Well we can’t throw it in the sea if _Merrill_ did it.”

“That may be true, but that doesn’t mean I have to look at it.”

“I think it’s sweet! We should put it over the bed. Imagine it: you and me, in that ridiculously tiny bed, Champion on top of us, and this over our heads. It’ll be...picturesque.”

“That’s the worst thing I’ve ever had to imagine, Hawke.”

Hawke just laughed and took the cross stitch and left for the ship, presumably to go put it over the bed. Awful. Isabela whipped out her phone to let Varric know she got the package.

ISABELA: this is objectively the worst gift ive ever received  
VARRIC: You’re welcome.  
ISABELA: how dare u imply that i am a mom  
ISABELA: if anything i am the hot older sister  
VARRIC: Okay.

Varric was one of those assholes who used full capitalization and punctuation and spelled out all his words when he texted.

ISABELA: tell merrill she did a good job on champion  
VARRIC: I’ll pass the message on.  
VARRIC: What does Hawke think of it?  
ISABELA: she loves it  
VARRIC: I thought so.  
ISABELA: i hate you so much  
VARRIC: Happy 35th birthday, Isabela!

Luckily, none of their meager crew had seen the thing, all too busy with their shore leave. And if Admiral Isabela had her way, none of them ever would see it. That meant it would _have_ to stay in the captain’s quarters. Bollocks.

Well, it was her shore leave, too. She went to go find a bar.

\---

Hawke found Isabela entertaining a group of Fereldan navy men in the shittiest bar on the entire pier a few hours later, after she had finished helping the cook load groceries and the like onto the ship.

“...and that’s the story of how I had a _threesome_ with the _Hero of Ferelden_ and the _King of Ferelden_!” she finished delightedly. There was a cluster of empty shot glasses next to her, but a few were still full. She knocked one back.

Isabela had at least six versions of that story. Sometimes the king was involved, sometimes other people. Usually the Hero of Ferelden was present, but sometimes it was just Zevran. It got confusing, and Hawke still had no idea which was the truth. It wasn’t like she could _ask_ the king and queen of Ferelden. 

Well, there was like a 30% chance the queen would answer if tweeted at about it, but that probably wasn’t a good idea.

Hawke sidled up to her partner. “Is this where you’ve been all day?”

“Hawke! Where have _you_ been?” Isabela asked happily. “Here, have a drink.”

“I’m fine.” Hawke grinned. “When did you last eat? Let’s go get some food in you.”

Some of the navy men protested, but Hawke ignored them. She took Isabela back to the ship and got some food for her.

“Have you had a good birthday?” she asked her.

“Oh, the _best_. Varric gave me twenty sovereigns! And you know, I didn’t have to pay for a single drink at that bar.”

“You’re a powerful woman, Isabela.”

“You know what, Hawke? I am. I AM a powerful woman! And I'm not a mom. What was Varric thinking?”

“Oh, _that's_ what this was about?” Okay, that made sense. Why else would Isabela have gone off to drink her feelings, without Hawke to watch her back? Damn it, Varric.

“Rude, right?”

“Very.” She grabbed some grapes off the plate she made for Isabela and ate some. “D’you want me to talk to him?”

“I think I texted him a few hours ago.” Isabela drank from the cup Hawke gave her. “Water? Hawke, I’m not _that_ drunk.”

“Can’t be too careful. Bethany spent twenty minutes lecturing me on the dangers of alcohol poisoning the last time we talked, you know.”

Isabela snorted. “She’s been spending too much time around Anders.”

“Someone has to make sure he doesn’t accidentally use a really specific geofilter on Snapchat again.”

They both laughed at that, though it had happened a few times. The last time, a local Grey Warden unit had actually been close to where Anders and Bethany were, and it nearly resulted in a huge firefight between them. Apparently, the queen of Ferelden had strict instructions to “bring back her son,” something that embarrassed Anders to no end. 

He had since learned his lesson about taking photos of stray cats with filters that had the name of the village he was staying in on them.

“You know, if the gift really bothers you that much, I can put it away. Hide it somewhere you’ll never look, like under Champion’s bed.”

Isabela groaned. “I’ll deal with it. It’s not exactly...wrong. I just don’t like the wording.”

“Neither of us are mothers, thank Andraste.”

“Thank _fuck_.”

“Well, you’re Champion’s Mama.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, he knows the difference between us as Mommy and Mama. What a good boy,” Hawke said fondly, looking at her dog, curled up on his bed on the other side of the cabin. “But you’re not, like, a _real_ mom.”

“I’m sure animal parents everywhere love to hear that kind of thing.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Isabela snorted and ate some more.

Hawke thought for a moment. “A family can just be you, your pirate girlfriend, your little sister, the terrorist your little sister is babysitting, the ghost that terrorist is sharing a body with, your little brother, his ginger boss and her husband, an escaped slave, a bloodmage, an actual real live prince, and a bestselling author. And a dog. And no kids,” she said, ticking her various friends off her fingers as she went.

“It’s a little wordy.”

“I’ll work on it,” Hawke promised. Isabela scarfed down the rest of her food. “D’you wanna go to sleep?”

“Oh, if you insist.” Hawke took the empty plate and cup and set them on the desk, then climbed back into the bed next to Isabela after taking off her boots and pants. Isabela kicked her own boots off too and curled up next to Hawke.

“Good night, Hawke,” she sighed.

“Happy birthday, Isabela.”

**Author's Note:**

> probably not as funny as the last one. if i write another i think i'll try for one about alistair and tabris. and maybe the awakenings crew? i gotta replay awakenings
> 
> find me on tumblr:  
> lydiawhinesaboutfanfiction.tumblr.com (mostly shitposts specifically about fanfic)  
> lydiacatfish.tumblr.com (main blog, mostly pictures of animals)
> 
> (http://thumbs2.ebaystatic.com/d/l225/m/mih2VTu9cHEWn6aucU3Zkaw.jpg isabela's card)


End file.
